Drabblicity 3
by ijustliketowatch
Summary: Drabbles starring everyone's favorite IT Girl Felicity Smoak and all her favorite vigilantes. Collection for Season 3.
1. Innuendo

Based on Marc Guggenheim's tweets teasing dialogue from the first issue of the Arrow Season 2.5 digital comic.

* * *

"You need to be in my bed," Felicity commands. Her forceful demeanor crumbles a moment later when she realizes the unsavory interpretation her words could have.

It used to make Oliver smile, her accidental innuendos. But for the last few weeks, it's made him cringe almost as much as it makes her. Not because he's embarrassed for her, but because of the vivid mental pictures that always accompany them now.

He sees her lounging in bed, barely covered by flowing white sheets, hair sprawled out around her head on fluffy pillows. She looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and says, "you need to be in my bed," but this time, there's nothing accidental about the innuendo. And just as he begins to imagine what it would be like to comply, to pull those sheets back and climb in next to her, her awkwardness saves him from himself.

"I mean, because you're injured and you need rest," she adds, her face flushed a deep red. Oliver clenches his fists at his sides and gives her a tight smile.

"I'll be fine on the couch," he says firmly, though he really would like to sleep in a bed. But he learned his lesson after the last time she forced him to switch. Spending another night wrapped in sheets that smelled like her, the maddening scent lingering in his nostrils for days after, would be torture. "I'm so exhausted, I could sleep anywhere," he assures her, gently laying his hand on her shoulder. Felicity frowns at him a moment, deciding if she's going to argue, and then sighs.

"Alright," she agrees begrudgingly. "If you're sure."

"I'll be fine. Goodnight, Felicity."

"Goodnight, Oliver," she replies and then turns away. He watches her go, pushing back other visions caused by the sway of her hips as she climbs the stairs, and almost gets caught when she reaches the top and looks back at him. She's surprised to find him still standing there and she smiles nervously, adorably. Oliver smiles back and feels an acute sense of loss when she disappears into her bedroom and from his sight.

"Christ, I've got to find my own place," he mutters to himself.

* * *

Thanks for reading and please leave some feedback. I'm sure I'll be writing more of these as the season progresses and we learn more.


	2. Memory Loss

This is based on a prompt from narelclollie who wanted a story in which Oliver loses his memory but is still drawn to Felicity. Thanks for all the support, dear.

* * *

When Oliver first wakes up, he doesn't remember any of it. The fights, the deaths, the wins, the losses—she has to tell him everything later.

So, when he find himself in some sort of warehouse basement he doesn't recognize, surrounded by people he doesn't know, he doesn't react well. He flies off the metal table he was laying on and gets into a defensive crouch, knocking some boy in a red leather getup to the ground in the process.

"Whoa, watch it man," the kid says, standing up. "You weren't the only one who got—" he's stopped from whatever he was going to say by Oliver's fist connecting with his face, knocking him out cold.

"Oliver!" a blonde girl yelps, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Where am I?" he demands. "How do you know who I am?" The girl drops her hands, blinking in surprise a moment and then glances at the other man in the room, a tall black man Oliver suspects will be far more difficult to take out than the girl.

"You're in the foundry at Verdant, Oliver," the girl says slowly, putting her hands up as if to show she doesn't mean him any harm. "I'm Felicity Smoak, that's John Diggle and the guy you just put on the floor is Roy Harper," she explains, pointing to each in turn. "We're your partners. You don't remember us?"

"No," he replies, eyeing her and trying to decide if this is a trick of some kind. "The last things I remember is taking a boat off Lian Yu and getting on a plane to Starling City," he says, straightening up a bit but still ready to spring into action if need be. "Is that where we are? They said they would take me to the hospital when we landed and my mother would be there. Is she here?" The girl's eyes are wide and she swallows tightly before she speaks again.

"She's not here," she says and he notices a strange edge to her voice. "Oliver, I know this is going to sound crazy," she starts and takes a step toward him. Oliver tenses again and she freezes, surprised by the reaction, and then moves back. She gives him a sympathetic look and takes a deep breath before she speaks again.

"You've been back in Starling City for almost 3 years. We're currently in the basement of one of QC's old foundries. We," she pauses, pointing between them and the two other men in the room, "work together here to protect Starling City. John was your bodyguard before you had to tell him your secret. When you were first crossing names off your father's list." Oliver's surprised to hear she knows about that. It certainly gives what she's saying more credibility, but they could have tortured that out of him. "He used to provide back-up, but you haven't let him back in the field since Lyla, his...ex-wife?" She glances at this "John" seemingly for confirmation and he shrugs. She nods and continues with, "had the baby. I joined you guys a few months later, when your moth—when you were injured and came to me for help. Though I probably would have figured out you were the Hood eventually. For a guy who keeps so much secret, you are a terrible liar. There was this one time when you brought me these syringes—"

"Felicity," the other man interrupts, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Right," she says and nods. "Roy is your backup in the field. He's not as good as you with a bow, but he's pretty handy with most weapons. Which I think is the reason the news started calling him Arsenal, which I still think is a really weird nickname, honestly. It's not like you guys are using weapons with much firepower."

"That's all very interesting," Oliver interrupts, only partly sarcastic. The girl's rather charming rambling was a little too disarming. He'd relaxed his guard and failed to notice the other man putting himself between Oliver and the nearby weaponry until it was too late. "But how do I know any of what you're saying is true? I know what manipulation looks like. I need proof."

"Whatever you want," she replies, sounding slightly relieved.

"I want to see my mother," he says. "If she tells me I've been back in Starling City as long as you say, maybe I'll believe everything else."

"I can't do that," she says, looking stricken.

"Those are my terms," he replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The girl sighs and gives him a pained look.

"I wish I could, Oliver—"

"Nice try," he interrupts. "You tell Waller or whoever you're working for that this is a waste of time. I won't work for her again no matter what she threatens to do." The girl looks questioningly at the other man and he nods, expression grim.

"Maybe it will jog his memory," he says and then Oliver notices him reposition himself slightly closer to her, this Felicity.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but," she pauses, seeming to blink back tears, "your mother is dead."

"No," he growls, fists clenching at his sides. "That's not true. You're making excuses."

"I promise you I'm not," she says, pleading for him to believe her. "Slade killed her when—"

"You're lying!" he yells, flipping the metal table he was laying on earlier. "That's impossible. He's dead. How do you even know that name?" he demands. He lunges at her and she screams and just manages to move out of the way before he grabs her. Oliver tries again, but he's suddenly hit from the side as the other man tackles him to the ground.

He's strong and clearly has training, but Oliver is angry and he's just starting to gain the upper hand when he feels a sharp pain in his arm. He looks down to find the blonde emptying the contents of a syringe into his bloodstream.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she says. And as his mind grows sluggish, he wonders if she might really be telling the truth. There's too much familiarity in the way she says his name and in the way she runs her hand comfortingly over his head as the world goes dark.

* * *

Oliver wakes on the same table as before—except this time he's strapped securely to its surface. It's a good thing too because the more he hears about his alleged life since returning to Starling City, the angrier he becomes. Felicity tells him about Tommy's death and Malcolm Merlyn's corruption of Thea, of losing control of QC and Slade's return. She even tells him some crazy story about Sara surviving to become an assassin. She sounds totally sincere, but he refuses to believe it. As surprisingly detailed as the information this girl and the two other men know about him is, he can't entertain the thought that it's all really true. If he's really been trying to save Starling City for this long and things are still this bad, then what was the point of it all?

Eventually, Felicity makes a hushed, urgent phone call, begging someone to come and see him. He waits, wondering who will walk through the door until Sara finally appears–like something out of the dreams he's had a million times since he last saw her–and Oliver can't deny the truth anymore.

He can barely endure the crushing loss he feels, the loneliness. And then a small hand wraps around his and he looks down to see Felicity gripping it in both of hers, looking at him as if she wants nothing more than to take all that pain away. She looks unsure when she sees him staring and starts to pull away, but he grips her hand tightly in his. He needs to grip onto something good, this friendship built up between them, even if he can't remember it.

Though he comes to wonder if that's all there is between them as time goes on. They're close in a way he doesn't seem to be with anyone else. Like the way she's always touching him. He's not even sure she realizes she's doing it. She'll squeeze his arm as she says goodnight or reach for him when he's injured or even nudge him playfully when she's making a joke. It unnerves him at first, this intimacy, but he starts to crave it—leaning into it instead of flinching away. It's like a simple comfort in the constant confusion his life has become. It's almost as comforting as the way she's constantly saying his name. Never Ollie–the nickname people have always preferred–but Oliver, each syllable rolling off her tongue like it's the most familiar word in the world to her. And he's constantly saying her name too. He doesn't know how it starts, maybe it's in response to her doing it. Whatever the case, he comes to like the sound of it and the way she looks every time he says it.

Memories come back to him in bits and pieces: fighting Slade, what happened between him and Laurel, how much he didn't like Roy dating his sister, even how he met Felicity. But it's still a struggle to run QC or remember he doesn't kill anymore or that he's supposed to trust Diggle and Roy. The only thing that makes it easier is Felicity, guiding him every step of the way and covering for the gaps in his memory. She's tireless in her willingness to help him and he can't understand why.

The two of them are working late at QC one night when he finally decides to get clarification. Oliver is sitting with his shoes up on his desk and Felicity is sitting across from him as they go over information he should already know for a shareholder meeting the next day. Though he's paying as much attention as he should. He's too busy watching her work, enjoying the intense way she stares at her laptop.

"Did you and I ever date?" Oliver asks.

"What?" she asks, looking comically alarmed.

"Did we ever date?" he repeats, sitting up and leaning toward her across the desk. "There's something...different between us. I'm just wondering why that is." Felicity sighs and frowns, sizing him up a moment before answering.

"There was one date," she says softly, eyes darting away.

"Why only one?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Because it was a disaster," she says and he can hear something sad in her voice. "There was an explosion and I got hurt. So you decided that," she pauses and looks back at him, "that being the Arrow meant you would never be safe enough to live a normal life as Oliver Queen. You refused to put me in danger," she finishes and clenches her jaw, giving him a hard look unlike anything he remembers seeing from her before.

"Hmm," he hums in response, sitting back in his chair. That certainly sounds like something he would say. "Makes sense," he adds.

Felicity looks at him a moment longer, as if she wants to say something more, but she turns back to her laptop without another word.

"Did I at least get to kiss you goodnight?" he asks after a moment.

"Oliver!" she exclaims and blushes.

"What?" he asks with a smirk. "I may have forgotten some things, but I still know what kind of guy I am," he jokes. It at least manages to get a sly smile and an admonishing head shake from her.

"No, but we did kiss," she admits and he feels a thrill at the way she says it. "Not during the date though. It was before. We were at the hospital when Lyla went into labor and you just reached out and..." She looks up at him shyly and he can't help but smile a little smugly.

"I wish I remembered it," he says and he really does. She bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile and then pointedly returns her full attention to her computer.

The conversation ends there, but Oliver doesn't stop thinking about it. In fact, Felicity and why he chose to keep away from her before start to take up more and more of his thoughts.

One one hand, she's really not any safer now. She's in danger as long as she works with the Arrow and he knows he'll never convince her to stop doing that. Nothing could make him forget how stubborn she is. He could try to push her away–be cruel, have her fired from QC, never let her into Verdant again–but he's not sure that would work either. She would see right through effort on his part to make her hate him. From what she's told him and the little he remembers, he's never been good at lying to her.

And he wouldn't want to push Felicity away anyway. He may not remember how she became such a big part of his life, but he can see the results. She's too involved in every facet—especially now. She is the only thing he's been sure of since he lost his memory, he can't imagine how he would feel without her.

Which is also why Oliver doesn't try to change their relationship. Felicity may have wanted to date him all those months ago, but her feelings could have changed since then. And his could change again too. He could wake up some morning with all of his memories back and understand why he wanted to keep away from her in the first place, breaking her heart all over again. The thought keeps him awake at night almost as much as his nightmares.

The indecision is maddening and confusing and he wonders if it was this bad before he lost his memory. He gets confirmation that it was even worse when he watches Ray Palmer flirt with her one day and suddenly regains the memory of what it was like when Barry Allen first came to town.

Oliver realizes then that trying to keep away from her is useless. HIs feelings for her are inescapable. He will always arrive back at Felicity no matter how hard he tries.


	3. Diner

The need to write has been inescapable lately. Based no the following prompt by otpprompts on Tumblr: Imagine your OTP meeting at a restaurant after Person A gets stood up by their date and ends up eating alone. Person B can be either a waiter at the restaurant or another person eating there.

And forgive Oliver for being a bit of a pig. This is him without the island after all.

* * *

Well, that's it then. Their relationship is over.

Oliver had told Laurel to meet him at 8 if she still wanted to be with him. It's now 10 and there's been no sign of her, not even a text.

He can't say he's surprised. It's tough to forgive a guy who cheats on you with your own sister—something she had made abundantly clear to him. But he had still held out hope. He promised he would change and he really meant it this time.

He's suddenly distracted from his moping by the sound of a plate sliding toward him over the counter. He looks down to find a piece of banana cream pie (his favorite and the reason he keeps coming to this crappy diner in the worst part of Starling City) sitting in front of him.

"I didn't order this," he says, giving the pretty blonde waitress a confused look.

"It's on me," she says sympathetically. "Being stood up is the worst."

"How did you—?"

"I doubt you've been sitting her for the last two hours staring at the door and drinking enough coffee to give you an ulcer just for fun," she explains.

"Right," he sighs, slumping over and resting his chin in his hand. "Thanks," he adds as he spears he pie with his fork.

"Nothing a slice of your favorite pie can't fix," she says encouragingly as she refills his coffee cup and then sets the pot down.

"How did you know it's my favorite," he pauses to look down at her name tag and adds, "Felicity?" She blushes and self-consciously pushes her black-rimmed glasses up her nose before answering.

"You're pretty much our only regular customer," she says casually. "Well, except that crazy guy we've had to call the police on a couple of times and the creepy guy who comes in here to stare at the waitresses." She shuts her eyes and shivers and despite his mood, Oliver finds it sort of adorable.

"What's a girl like you even doing working in a dump like this?" he asks, taking a bite of his pie and already feeling better because of it.

"Hey, it's not that bad," she says defensively. Oliver raises an eyebrow at her in response. "OK, it's not an ideal place to work," she admits, "but it pays the bills. I'm paying my way through college."

"Oh yeah? What's your major?"

"Computer science."

"Really?" he says, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth he's so surprised. "You don't seem like the type." She scowls and fixes him with a withering stare.

"And what type do I seem like?" she asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. He chuckles and then squints at her, play-acting sizing her up.

"Hmm, secretarial arts? No, library sciences?" he jokes and she scoffs, playfully punching him in the arm. "What? You've got the sexy librarian look down with the glasses and the ponytail and the pen in your hair." He stands up a bit on the stool to look at her clothes and then adds, "need a shorter skirt though."

"My skirt is just fine, thank you very much," Felicity says, pushing him hard enough that he falls back into his seat, but her face is flushed a flattering shade of red. "I'd think you of all people wouldn't put too much stock in appearances, Oliver 'Incorrigible Heir to a Multi-Billion Dollar Corporation' Queen." His mouth drops open in shock and she gives him a wicked smile.

"You know, you really shouldn't believe everything you read in the tabloids," he says with mock haughtiness. "It's mostly lies anyway."

"Oh, I know for a fact some of it's true," she replies.

"Oh really?" he asks, intrigued.

"Yup, I got a front row seat to your antics last year at Starling U."

"Ah, my favorite school to be expelled from," Oliver says, spreading his arms wide before setting his elbows on the counter and leaning forward.

"I was at that party," Felicity says conspiratorially, leaning down to mirror his pose.

"Right, wet t-shirt contestant #4," he jokes. "Slutty pirate?"

"No," she snaps and gives him a stern look that's made less imposing by her smile. "I was an unsexy zombie for your information. And I left before that started. Right around the time you started jumping off the roof into the pool."

"You should have joined," he suggest.

"I'm afraid of heights," she replies, biting her bottom lip as she smiles and suddenly making Oliver notice the bright pink lipstick covering them. Maybe it's because he's never been this close to her–they're both leaning pretty far over the counter– but he's not sure how he's never noticed this girl before.

"You're too beautiful to sit behind a computer all day," he mutters.

"And you're too handsome for your own good," she replies.

The moment is broken by the sound of the diner door opening and they both turn toward the sound. They both sigh in disappointment when they see a man standing there and Oliver wonders why Felicity would be unhappy to see this guy when the man in question leers at her.

"Coffee, sweetheart," the guy says loudly. "Black," he adds as he sits at the opposite end of the counter.

"Creepy guy?" Oliver asks lowly. Felicity scowls in response and then turns to grab the coffee pot. "Want me to take care of him for you?" he adds.

"I can handle myself, thank you," she says sarcastically and walks away. Oliver has no doubt. Though he'll stick around anyway, if only to find out what time her shift ends.


	4. Late Arrival

Jeez, I don't know what's going on lately, but I've been on a serious Olicity drabble kick.

Set after they're together sometime in the future and Oliver comes home after a trip of some kind.

* * *

Felicity had wanted to meet him at the airport, but Oliver had absolved her of the obligation. Not that he didn't want to see her—he'd spent the whole of his brief trip missing her. But his flight landed at 2am and he knows how miserable she always is when she has to put in a full work day on too little sleep.

Still, he's surprised she doesn't show up anyway. He has never known Felicity to follow anything that sounds remotely like an order, but perhaps even she could admit sleep was the better option.

Oliver opens the door to find that she left the light in the foyer on for him. He flicks it off expecting to be plunged into total darkness but is surprised to see the slightest illumination coming from their bedroom. He picks up his suitcase, hauls it up the stairs and walks quietly into the room. He suspects he'll find Felicity waiting up for him, but finds her fast asleep instead.

She's lit by the bedside lamp and sitting propped up on pillows against the headboard. Her glasses are askew and her hands are still lightly wrapped around the tablet laying in her lap, like she fell asleep while reading. Oliver smiles, gently sets his bags down and then tiptoes across the room. He stands beside the bed a moment, enjoying how cute she looks slumped over from exhaustion, before he leans down to wake her up—though not by trying to take the tablet out of her hands.

He made that mistake once and she jolted awake so fast she almost gave both of them heart attacks. Even when unconscious Felicity is acutely aware of her tech. Rather, he takes her chin in his hand so he can turn her face and gently press his lips to hers. He hears her inhale deeply as she wakes up and then feels her hands come up and grab the material of his shirt.

"Mmm, that was a nice way to wake up," she says sleepily when he pulls away. "But I'm sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to stay awake until you got home," she adds with a pout.

"It's OK," he says softly, running a hand through her hair.

"I missed you," she sighs, repositioning herself in the bed to get more comfortable.

"I missed you too," he replies, plucks the glasses off her nose and then sets them on the bedside table.

"Come to bed," she mumbles, already falling asleep again.

"OK," he says, flicking off the light.


	5. Flowers

I gotta stop following so many blogs that give prompts on Tumblr. I don't remember where I saw the idea for a Florist AU and didn't save the post because I didn't think I'd write anything, but here we are. I tried to link pics of each flower so you'd know what I was talking about, but sucks, unfortunately.

* * *

Oliver always tries to guess the eventual purchases of his customers—a holdover from when his mother used to bring him with her when he was a child and needed to find a way to keep him from getting restless. It's a habit rather than a distraction now.

So, the first time she walks in, he takes in the prim ponytail, glasses and playful pastel color of her skirt and thinks, "lemon geranium, of course," only to be surprised when she picks a handful of the horribly-named but still-lovely rainbow sorbet roses. Though when she brings them to the counter, he realizes that was the obvious choice. There's something reminiscent of them in the prettiness of her blonde hair and bright pink lipstick.

When she comes in again a week later, she surprises him twice. First, because he doesn't have many repeat customers, making most of his profits on men buying apology flowers or last-minute gifts for important occasions they've belatedly remembered. Second, because instead of going straight for the roses like last time, she picks violets instead. He understands why when she comes to the counter to pay and notices that they match the polish on her fingernails.

He doesn't even bother to guess when she comes in again. She chooses hibiscus, in a shade of red only slightly less pleasing than that of the dress she's wearing. He assumes that since she has come in at the same time every Monday to purchase a single bouquet that this might become a habit. So, Oliver decides it's time to get to know the mysterious girl who seems determined to match her purchases to her attire.

"Either you're the best girlfriend in the world or you did something pretty bad if you've got to give her flowers every week," he jokes when she hands them to him.

"What?" she starts, confused a moment before she understands. "Oh no, I don't have a girlfriend," she says with a laugh and blushes. "Despite those rumors about Sara and I in college," she mutters to herself before addressing him again. "No, these are for me. I like to have a little color on my desk at work since my office is so blah."

"Ah," Oliver replies with a nod, feeling a twinge of excitement that she's at least on his team even if he doesn't know if she's available. "What do you do?" he asks conversationally as he wraps the bouquet.

"I'm in IT at Merlyn Global," she says proudly. "I love the job, but sometimes I need a reminder that there's nature outside of my computer screen."

"Well, I'm glad you chose Queen Florists to buy your reminders," he says and gives her the wide, charming grin he knows works on most women.

"Of course," she replies and gives him a dazzling smile that nearly knocks him off balance. "It's beautiful in here," she says, gesturing to the shop around them. "You've got the best selection in the neighborhood if not the city. How long have you worked here?"

"My whole life, really," he says. "My mother opened it and I took it over when she retired. My sister was pretty happy about that. Thea never grew out of the 'flowers are so boring' phase."

"Her loss," she replies and then hands him cash for her purchase. "What made you grow out of that?"

"I was kind of a wild kid," Oliver says, smiling at partial memories of debauched nights. "My Dad gave me an ultimatum when I got thrown out of college: either I start working in one of the family businesses or they cut me off. Flowers seemed like an easier living than law, plus girls seemed into it, so I chose this," he adds with a shrug and she gives him a smirk. "But I ended up liking it," he admits and turns to gently runs his finger over the frilly petals of a nearby buckbean. "Flowers are simple even if they seem complex. They're all unique in their exact needs, but the essentials are the same: water, light, space to grow. And they make people happy in a way that nothing else does. They're one of the few things that exist simply because they're beautiful." He turns back to find her staring at him with half-lidded eyes and her lips parted. He tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow questioningly and she seems to snap back to attention, clearing her throat and shuffling nervously.

"So true," she says a little breathily.

"'Til next week?" he confirms, holding out her change and the bouquet.

"'Til next week," she agrees and turns to go.

Oliver is looking forward to seeing her the next Monday but is surprised when she walks in without her usual look of untroubled contentment. Instead, she's holding her cellphone to her ear and looking decidedly unhappy about what the person on the other end is saying.

"No, Mom, I'm not," she says angrily. "Why is that always the first thing you ask me? My job is going really well, if you'd care to know." She pauses as she listens and the furrow in her brow deepens. "Yes, I am sticking with this 'whole computer thing'" she says acidly, her free hand making air quotes. She reaches out and roughly grabs a pre-bundled bouquet heavily featuring scotch thistle, listens a moment and then seems to interrupt her mother mid-sentence, almost yelling to get her attention. "Mom, Mom! I have to go. I need to get to work."

She hangs up with a frustrated sigh, slams the flowers down on the counter and then rubs her eyes.

"Everything OK?" Oliver asks as he begins to wrap the flowers. Her hand slides down so she can seem him over her fingers and her shoulders slump.

"My mother," she says, her tone making it sound like a sentence. "She doesn't seem to understand that leaving Vegas for MIT and then coming to Starling City wasn't all just some elaborate plan to find a husband. God forbid I think my life has meaning even if I'm not dating anyone right now." She throws her hands in the air and then looks up at him. She grows embarrassed and then speaks again, this time more timidly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant at you. Two people don't need to have their days ruined because of my mother. How much do I owe you?"

"They're on me today," he says and holds out the bouquet.

"Really?" she asks, smiling for the first time since she walked in.

"Absolutely," he says firmly. "Think of it as my attempt to salvage your day."

"Thanks," she says bashfully. "What's your name, by the way? I never asked."

"Oliver," he says and sticks out his hand.

"Felicity," she replies.

"Beautiful," he comments and feels a little proud when she blushes and bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile. She pulls her hand away without another word, grabs the bouquet and leaves.

Oliver starts preparing for the next week immediately.

He spends a few days trying to think of the right flower and finally settles on orchids. Cliché as they are, he's always loved them–their delicacy, their difficulty–it's all worth the reward of how singularly beautiful they are. He picks orange epidendrums at first and then decides he wants something with fuller petals and softer coloring. He considers the phalaenopsis family for half a second before dismissing those as too sterile and nearly jumps in the air when he realizes the only real choice is cymbidium. At first he picks a light green variety, because that's his favorite color, and then realizes she would probably like a pink or yellow more. He finally settles on the former because something about the soft pink petals, yellow throat and dark pink, almost red lips seem to fit her. He replants the stalk in a pot and doesn't trim the leaves back too much, liking the way the blooms contrast with the green.

The flowers are waiting and hidden behind the counter for her on Monday morning. Oliver doesn't even give her a chance to browse before drawing her attention the minute she walks in.

"Felicity," he says excitedly, beckoning her over. "I have something for you." Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then she tilts her head, giving him an intrigued look. She walks over and he takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing.

"I know you like getting fresh-cut flowers ever week and I certainly don't want this to stop you from coming in, but I thought you might like something a little more permanent." He lifts up the pot and places it on the counter, gauging her reaction. Her mouth drops open in surprise and she reaches up to feel the flowers' waxy petals.

"They're beautiful," she mutters dreamily and Oliver sighs in relief. "But aren't orchids really hard to take care of?" she asks, coming back to the moment. "I'd have to buy a book well, Google them probably, or—"

"Or I can tell you how to take care of them," Oliver cuts in, "maybe over dinner sometime this week?" She blinks at him a moment, mouth open in surprise, and then her cheeks flush as she realizes what he's asking.

"OK," she says softly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Great," he says and grins. "You free Wednesday?"

"Wednesday's perfect," she agrees.


	6. Trick Arrow

Based on a prompt by flauermari on Tumblr: "i would love a scene like the one in batman the dark night in which the joker pushes rachel off the building and batman jumps after her ,i want something like that for oliver and felicity."

* * *

Oliver manages to fire the arrow straight into the bastard's chest, but it doesn't stop him from dropping Felicity off the edge of the building. His feet are in motion even before he hears her scream out his name and he goes flying off the edge after her without hesitation.

He reaches back and grabs an arrow, hoping his meticulous quiver arranging pays off because he won't have chance to fire another before they hit the ground. He takes as careful aim as he can in free-fall and releases the bow string. The arrow comes close to her, missing her my mere centimeters and flies past her toward the ground.

There's no time to see if it works because a moment later he catches up to her–the push off the side of the building when he first jumped giving him that extra momentum–and they wrap their arms around each other.

He manages to turn them so he takes the brunt of the impact and is glad to hit something soft and pillowy instead of concrete. Felicity lands on top of him, knocking the wind out of him and they bounce once before coming to rest.

"Oliver, Oliver, are you OK?" she asks, pushing up off of him to look into his face, her glasses lost sometime during the fall.

"I'm fine," he grinds out. She relaxes and rolls the rest of the way off him, rocking the giant cushion beneath them.

"I told you the 'airbag arrow' was a good idea," she says smugly.

He only sighs in response. He'll never hear the end of it now.


	7. Flash-Forward

Based on this prompt by an Anon on Tumblr: "pre island Oliver seeing future Oliver with Felicity (kudos if you can include Moira, Tommy, Laurel or Thea from pre island)"

* * *

"What the fuck did we take last night?" Oliver groans, shutting his eyes in hopes the world will have stopped spinning by the time he opens them again.

"I don't know," Tommy replies, voice muffled because he's got his head buried in his arms where they're crossed on top of the table. He raises his head, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and grimaces. "But remind me never to take it again."

"Here you go, boys," the waitress says, setting down a coffee in front of each.

"You're a saint," Tommy tells her, sliding off his glasses so he can better see the cream he's adding to the cup. He picks up a sugar packet and shakes it in his hand when the movement suddenly slows. Oliver looks up to find him squinting into the distance behind him, mouth hanging open.

"What?" he asks.

"Am I still high or are you standing over there?" he asks, pointing. Oliver turns to see what he's talking about and is shocked to find a man standing at the counter who could be his mirror image. Well, except this guy looks like kind of a dick as he stands rigidly straight, fingers working impatiently and a frown on his face that looks like it's taken permanent residence there. His hair is close-cropped and Oliver wouldn't be caught dead wearing a suit first thing in the morning unless he were leaving the house of a girl he met the night before.

"He looks nothing like me," Oliver says and turns back around, disliking the idea that he could turn into some uptight businessman like his father.

"Are you kidding me?" Tommy asks, giving him an incredulous look. "He looks exactly like you."

"Bullshit," Oliver says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, he looks like you 10 years from now," Tommy goes on. "Like you after Laurel finally cuts off your balls and forces you to 'get serious about your life,'" he says, mocking the lecture she gave Oliver before she stormed out of the party.

"Well, then he's definitely not me," Oliver replies, not appreciating the reminder that he and Laurel are on yet another break. "I'm never going to be able to convince her to take me back this time." The sharp ring of the bell above the door intensifies Oliver's splitting headache and he's about to take another restorative sip of coffee when Tommy whacks his arm, making it splash out of the mug onto his hand.

"Ow, damn it, what the hell?" he asks angrily.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he replies, pointing to the man again.

Oliver turns around just in time to see a pretty blonde with nice legs and glasses lean up to kiss his doppelgänger. The man smiles down at her when they separate and grabs a bag of food before walking out hand-in-hand with the girl, staring at her like he is thoroughly whipped.

"Good for you, man, she's hot," Tommy says with a smirk, hitting his arm again and making Oliver spill more of his coffee.

"Damn it," Oliver snarls, grabs a handful of sugar packet and then hurls them in Tommy's face.

"Hey," he says defensively and then picks up some sugar packets of his own. They spend the next few moments exchanging volleys until the exertion gives them both mind-numbing waves of nausea.

"Ugh," Oliver groans, head in his hands. "We have got to lay off the drugs from now on."

* * *

I've got two more drabbles coming in the next 24 hours so I apologize now for spamming the inboxes of those following this collection.


	8. Concussion

Based on a prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "could you do a prompt where felicity is injured, maybe has a concussion and she isn't allowed to sleep so oliver has to keep her up?"

* * *

This is exactly why she stays in the lair.

Felicity is beyond exhausted, but she can't do the one thing she wants to do: sleep. Stupid concussion, stupid criminals. Why can't they go to Central City and bother Barry? She yawns and leans her head onto the back of her living room couch, closing her eyes a moment.

"Hey, sit up," Oliver admonishes, jostling her slightly.

"I was just resting my eyes," she whines and frowns at him.

"No excuses, you only have to stay awake for a little longer," he says encouragingly.

"Ugh," she groans and rolls her eyes, slumping into the couch. "Can we at least find something else to do besides playing this game again?" she asks, pointing at the Clue board on the coffee table. "Surely you can think of a better way to keep a girl awake all night." Oliver raises an eyebrow at her and smirks slightly and Felicity feels her cheeks flush. She can't even blame that on the concussion. Oliver considers a moment and tilts his head when he notices something behind her.

"Is that any good?" he asks, pointing at the poster for The Adventures of Robin Hood hanging above her mantle.

"Wait, seriously?" she says incredulously. "How have you never seen it?" Oliver just shrugs helplessly in response. "We have to fix that right now," she says, standing to go look for her copy.

The movie is just about over when Felicity notices the clock and realizes she can finally go to sleep. She turns excitedly toward Oliver and finds him fast asleep, his mouth hanging open as his head rests on the back on the couch.

"Oh, I'm never letting him live this one down," she mutters to herself.


	9. Bodyguard

Based on a prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "Maybe an Olicity AU where Oliver is Felicity´s bodyguard?"

* * *

John Diggle gave Oliver one rule when he hired him: no fraternizing with the clients. He had never been tempted to break that rule in the 5 years of his employment (outside of a few advances from lonely society wives), but for some reason, he can't seem to help getting friendly with Felicity Smoak, CEO and head creative genius of Smoak Tech.

She's not the first beautiful woman he's protected, but he's never had a client who was so determined to be his friend. Most of them politely ignore him, letting him melt into the background like he's supposed to. She, however, is always addressing him. But never as "Mr. Queen" like clients usually do. She dismissed that as too formal from the beginning. It's always, "Good night, Oliver," or "Oliver, what are your feelings on dumplings for lunch?" or even the too-familiar, "So, tell me about yourself, Oliver." He's gotten personal questions before sure, but most people listen politely and then forget immediately—blatant attempts not to seem like just a rich asshole. She actually seems to care, chatting with him whenever she wants to take a break from her work.

Still, he refuses to call her by her first name, despite how many times she asks him—which is every damn day. Every morning he picks her up and she greets him with a bright, "Good morning, Oliver," to which he always responds, "Good morning, Ms. Smoak." And then she'll sigh and look at him over the top of her glasses and say, "you know I wish you'd stop that." And he'll smirk and reply with a simple, "yes, ma'am," because he knows that irks her even more.

They play this little name game for three whole months until one day, she doesn't just roll her eyes and get in the car after.

"Are you really going to keep up this 'Ms. Smoak' thing forever?" she asks, sounding resigned.

"It's part of the job," he replies formally, squaring his shoulders.

"Listen, Oliver, I understand that, but please," she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm, surprising him. "I know you're supposed to be all formal and stoic, but I'd feel better if you and I could just pretend we're two buddies hanging out all day. It's easier for me to forget my life might be in danger that way." She smiles up at him–expression sweet and warm–and he can't resist.

"OK, Felicity," he says softly, satisfaction spreading through him at the sound of it. She gives him a big, dazzling grin and squeezes his arm.

"There," she says happily. "Was that so hard?" she asks and then turns away to climb into the car.

Oliver frowns after, because no, it was almost too easy.

* * *

This will be the last drabble for a bit (she said without much conviction), so leave a review or two on them if you don't mind. They're greatly appreciated.


	10. Immortality

From a prompt by placeofold on Tumblr: Immortal Felicity (fluffy, angsty, take your pick).

* * *

It's better this way.

Oliver has been through enough in his short life without the prospect of finally deciding to be with her only to find out he'll grow old and die while she watches, forever young, impossible to kill.

She knows she could ease his mind with one simple confession, tell him that staying away from her for her protection is pointless because she doesn't have to fear death in the first place. But she refrains nonetheless. Not because she doesn't trust him to keep her secret—she knows very well he's capable of that.

Felicity has had many lovers in her years on earth, but none so damaged or frightened as Oliver Queen and she can't help but think that perhaps he deserves a less complicated love. Normalcy might be healthier..

So, she'll wait and watch because it isn't as if she doesn't have the time. She won't interfere as he tries to figure out what he wants and then if he arrives back at her, they'll go from there. She hopes he does.


	11. Cookies

Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: someone on team Arrow fail!Bakes muffins or cookies or something, while the rest of the team pretends to like them so their feelings aren't hurt

* * *

"Who brought the cookies?" Oliver asks, picking one up off the tray and biting into it.

Or at least he tries to. His teeth come down on hard on what he now assumes is a small rock shaped like a cookie and he feel his jaw creak with the effort. His eyes widen and he pulls the remainder of the cookie from his mouth and runs his tongue over his front teeth, making sure they haven't chipped.

"I did," Diggle says proudly. "I've been trying to handle some of the cooking with Lyla and I made too many so she told me to bring the rest here."

"Great," Oliver says, swallowing down the chunk of cookie in his mouth and hoping it doesn't kill him. Diggle smiles and turns back to training Roy and Oliver takes the chance to stuff the "cookie" in his pocket for discreet disposal later. Felicity walks up to him, giving him a sympathetic look.

"What is wrong with these?" Oliver asks lowly,

"I don't know, but I may never eat a cookie again," she says, sounding traumatized. "Roy won't even touch them and you know he never turns down free food."

"How is Lyla surviving?"

"I don't know, but we have to help her," Felicity says. "She sent these to us as a cry for help," she adds and points at the tray.

* * *

I've got 2 more drabbles coming. I'll post one each morning just so people don't get overwhelmed.


	12. Buried

Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: Felicity Buried alive and talking to Oliver. Maybe Oliver having trouble/getting frustrated with the computers because they are taking too long

* * *

"Where is she?" Oliver yells through the comms as he races through the darkened cemetery.

"Keep running straight 500 feet and then take a sharp left," Diggle replies, voice strained.

"Oliver," Felicity starts, voice small from either fear or a lack of oxygen, he doesn't want to think which, "if I don't—"

"You're going to make it, Felicity," he cuts her off, straining to pick up speed. "I'll be there soon."

"I know," she says drowsily. "But my battery is almost out and in case you don't, I—" The line goes dead silent.

"Felicity! Felicity!" Oliver yells, panicking.

"I've lost the signal," Diggle says, "but you should be there now. Do you see any fresh graves?" Oliver looks around desperately and nearly falls to his knees at what he finds.

"There are two," he says.

"Pick one and start digging. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Oliver stands a moment–reading the headstones as if they can tell him which one Felicity is beneath–chooses the mound on the left and then begins shoveling the dirt out of the way like a man possessed.

She has to survive. She has to. He doesn't know what he'll do if she doesn't. He's been so stupid. He knew not starting a relationship with her wouldn't be enough to keep her safe. He should have cut her off from the Arrow too, never let her anywhere near him again. But he was too selfish for that. He couldn't live without her completely and now she's paying the price.

He makes bargains with whatever higher power might be listening as he digs, promising to never kill again, to break all ties with her, to do anything as long as she lives. His whole body is aching with the effort of digging when he finally feels the shovel scrape against something hard.

"Felicity," he yells, falling to his knees to clear the rest of the dirt away with his hands. There's no answer and he worries he's chosen the wrong grave or he's too late until he wrenches open the coffin's lid and finds her inside, unconscious.

"Felicity," he yells again, reaching down to pull her out and sobbing in relief when he finds her pulse weak but still there.

He climbs out of the grave and the act of hauling her onto the damp grass next to it jostles her awake.

"Oliver," she mutters when her eyes flutter open, one hand coming up to weakly grip the material of his shirt.

"I'm here," he says, brushing the hair out of her face and glancing around fruitlessly for her glasses.

"I was so scared," she says, starting to cry.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner," he says, a wave of hate running through him at the prospect of finding the bastard who did this.

"Thank you, thank you," she says, sitting up to wrap her arms around him. He moves to meet her but doesn't realize that he means to kiss her until their lips meet. He fears she'll move away for a moment until her hands come up to the side of his face to keep him from doing so.

Still, he pulls away anyway because she needs to catch her breath. But now that he's started, he can't stop, promises be damned. He kisses her hands, her nose, her cheeks–her tears salty on his lips–until he can't keep away from her lips any longer.


	13. Fender Bender

Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: Team Arrow in a minor car accident, but Oliver being extra worried/ protective of Felicity given the van flipping incident in the finale

* * *

Oliver instinctively reaches out to her, needing to make sure Felicity is OK. But then he sees Ray Palmer sitting next to her in the row of seats behind the one he and Roy occupy–one hand gripping hers and the other on the side of her face–and remembers that's not really his right anymore.

"Are you alright?" Palmer asks, worried.

"I'm fine," she replies and exhales, her shoulders relaxing. "You?"

"Right as rain," he says with a smile and then leans toward her. Oliver turns around quickly and catches Diggle raising an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror.

"I'll go make sure the other driver is alright," he mutters, desperate to get away.

* * *

That's it with the daily drabbles for now. However, because of popular demand, there will be a part 2 of the Bodyguard drabble posted in a few days. Until then, I'd love you tons if you left a review or two on what's already been posted.


	14. Bodyguard 2

By popular demand and because graellora on Tumblr has been following and commenting for a long time, I've written a sequel to that other Bodyguard drabble. I have no plans to do a multi-chap of this, but I got some ideas writing this one so we'll see. Enjoy and leave a review after if it's not too much trouble. ;)

* * *

He's always so serious.

Felicity understands why. It's part of the whole imposing bodyguard thing. And much as she bristled at the idea of having a bodyguard in the first place, even she feels more comfortable with Oliver around now. His quiet, watchful intensity makes her feel secure and calm when it feels like her mind is forever racing.

Which is why, when he's driving her home one night after a long day and a touch of panic seeps into his tone as he talks on the phone, she knows something must be very wrong.

"Is she OK?" he asks, voice shaky. He waits and listens, his foot suddenly heavier on the gas pedal. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he says and hangs up.

"Everything alright?" she asks, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

"My sister was in a car accident," he replies, voice strained.

"Oh my God," Felicity says, hand flying to cover her mouth. "Is she alright?"

"She's conscious, but they think she might have a broken arm. They're going to do an x-ray and run some tests to make sure nothing else is wrong."

"Is she at Starling General?" she asks and he nods. "You should get off at the next exit or else you'll have to backtrack to get there."

"I'm taking you home first," he replies, turning briefly to give her a confused look.

"Oliver," she says, frowning at him. "Your injured sister trumps me getting home. I can catch a cab from the hospital."

"That's not safe," he counters.

"Well, then I'll call Mr. Diggle and ask him to send someone else to take me home." He opens his mouth to argue but she cuts him off. "This isn't up for discussion, Oliver. We're going to Starling General." She sees his hands tighten on the wheel and his jaw clench and she's not sure for a moment if he'll listen, but then, he sighs, flicks on the blinker and steers the car off the freeway.

Oliver is more agitated than she's ever seen him by the time they arrive at the hospital and she almost has to run to keep up with him as he strides toward the reception desk.

"What room is Thea Queen in?" he demands and the nurse looks momentarily taken aback.

"Are you—" she starts, but is interrupted by another voice.

"Ollie!" a girl yells and they turn to find a small brunette being wheeled into one of the nearby rooms on a stretcher.

"Thea," he sighs in relief.

"I'm fine," she assures when they reach the room. Oliver places a hand gently on the side of her face–careful to avoid the bandage on her forehead and she smiles at him a moment before turning to tilt her head at Felicity. "Who's that?" she asks, pointing and then cringing because she accidentally used the arm that's currently wrapped in a splint.

"Oh, um, hi, Felicity Smoak," she stutters, embarrassed at intruding. "Sorry, I'll just—"

"The infamous Ms. Smoak," Thea says with a satisfied smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Wish I could say the same," Felicity blurts out, heat flooding her cheeks immediately after. Oh to have been born with a brain-to-mouth filter. She opens her mouth again to speak but is stopped when Thea chuckles and shakes her head, the same way Oliver always does.

"Typical Ollie," she says affectionately and looks up at him with a smile. He narrows his eyes and frowns at her and seems just about to object when a doctor comes into the room.

"Ms. Queen," he says formally, "are these—"

"He's my brother and that's his...boss, I guess?" she says and looks to Oliver for confirmation but goes on before he can speak. "Don't worry about them. You can say whatever you need to. So how's my arm?" The doctor frowns a moment, looking between the two non-patients before answering.

"You have a fracture to your right ulna," he says, "so you'll have to wear a cast for a few weeks. It's a clean break though and other than that, everything seems fine. I'd still like to keep you overnight for observation until we get a look at your MRI, but I expect we can discharge you in the morning. The best thing for you now is rest," the doctor says firmly, giving Oliver a pointed look and then leaving the room.

"Ugh," Thea grumbles, slouching on the bed. "I was really hoping I'd at least get to go home."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Oliver asks and the tenderness in his voice surprises Felicity. She didn't know he was capable.

"No," Thea replies, "I'm exhausted anyway. But you better pick me up first thing in the morning. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." Oliver nods and stands to gently kiss her on the forehead.

"It was nice to meet you," Felicity says when they start to leave.

"You too," Thea replies and then turns to give Oliver a look Felicity doesn't understand that has him looking stern.

Once they're back in the car, Oliver calls Mr. Diggle to ask for the morning off and Felicity feels a little disappointed at the prospect of not seeing him tomorrow—which is weird and selfish and not something she can explain. He heaves a sigh of relief when he finds someone to take his place, but he still seems antsy and more brooding than usual.

"Your sister seems sweet," she says, hoping conversation will get him out of his own head.

"Don't let her fool you," he says and smirks at her in the mirror. "She's a hellion." Felicity chuckles, surprised when she realizes this is the first time he's made her laugh.

"Does your whole family call you 'Ollie?'" she asks, curious. "I can see why you don't use it for work. Not very imposing for a bodyguard."

"Childhood nickname," he replies with a half-smile. "Thea had a hard time saying the whole thing when she was little so my parents started using it too."

"Do they know Thea's alright, by the way?" she asks, alarmed at the idea that his parents might not know their daughter was in a car accident. "Did the hospital call them too?"

"Oh, um, that's not a," he mutters, grasping for words, "our parents are...they passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Oliver. I didn't realize—"

"It's OK," he interrupts and smiles at her in the mirror.

"How did they...," she starts before stopping herself. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that," she adds in a hurry and then sinks into her seat a bit, prepared to quietly punish herself for the rest of the ride when he surprises her by answering her unfinished question.

"It was a few years ago," he says softly, sounding a little distant. "They were in a car accident," he says and she understands why he was so upset when he got the call about Thea. "Drunk driver hit them and they flipped into oncoming traffic. My father died instantly, but my mother...somehow...only broke a leg and got a concussion." He lapses into silence a moment and runs his hand over his face before going on. "That was how they found the cancer though," he says, voice cold. "The tumor was large, aggressive, they gave her six months at most."

"Oh my God," Felicity mutters, "that must have been awful for you both," she adds, unable to think of anything better.

"I was overseas at the time, but they discharged me so I could come home and take care of her and Thea. Our mother was a fighter, but watching her deteriorate so fast," he pauses, frowning at the memory, "Thea had a tough time staying focused. She was in high school at the time. Her grades slipped and then, after...well, she stopped showing up to class completelyl. John, Mr. Diggle, and I had been in the army together and he had given me this job so I couldn't watch her all day. There were drugs and she would disappear for days at a time. It got so bad that every time I got a phone call, I thought it would be the police telling me she had been hurt or arrested or... And then one time it was the hospital. Somebody had left her in front of the emergency room after she almost OD'd."

"That must have been so scary," she says raising a hand to place on his shoulder and then thinking better of it.

"Yeah," he agrees. "but thank God, that was what convinced her to get help. It took a long time, but she's in a much better place now. She got her GED, started college."

"That's amazing," Felicity says encouragingly. "You should be really proud."

"I am," he says with a small smile. "Hell, she took control of her life in a way I never could have at that age. My parents had to cut me off and push me into the military to get me under control."

Felicity opens her mouth to speak when Oliver slows the car to a stop and she suddenly realizes they've reached her house. He opens his door and walks around to open hers, offering his hand to help her out.

"Thanks," she says, pausing a moment she feels like she should say something else doesn't know what. "Thanks for bringing me home," she says awkwardly. "If you want to take the whole day off tomorrow to take care of Thea, don't worry about me. I'm sure Mr. Diggle can find a replacement. Or I can just drive myself around. I've almost forgotten what it's like."

Oliver huffs a laugh and then says a soft, "OK." She nods decisively and turns to go but stops when Oliver reaches out and grabs her arm.

"Felicity," he says, gently pulling her so she turns to look at him again. "Thank you."

"Of course," she says breathily, a little overwhelmed by the sincerity. She's never seen him with his guard down before and, from nowhere, she suddenly has the urge to ask him if he wants to come inside.

But the moment is broken before she can ask when he suddenly steps back, letting his hand fall to his side and straightens up, the bodyguard persona back in place.

"Goodnight, Ms. Smoak," he says, not using her first name for the first time in weeks.

"Goodnight, Oliver," she says and turns to go.


	15. Hands

Based on this prompt from otpprompts: "imagine your OTP on their first date. Person A asks person B to hold hands just like couples do, and when they do, they ended up blushing the whole time. Then person B wakes up, only to found that it was only a dream, and cries over it. What happens to person A is up to you."

Based on the Olicity first date in "The Calm."

* * *

It's not the first time Oliver has ever held Felicity's hand. They do it often actually, in danger or for for comfort or occasionally out of politeness. The feeling of his hand wrapped around hers–so small and cool and soft–is familiar.

But this feels different. This is the first time he's reached out simply because he wanted to.

The date had gone better than expected. After the initial awkwardness, things had been smoother, more like their usual way with each other. She had rambled, he had laughed, she had complimented him on the choice of restaurant and that had given him more pleasure than his plate of spaghetti, delicious as it was.

They were walking out after, Felicity telling him some ridiculous story about that time in high school when she was caught counting cards at the Luxor, when he just reached down and took her hand in his.

He worries that maybe it's the wrong thing to do as she pauses mid-sentence and stares down at their hands with a startled expression—until she intertwines their fingers. She looks up at him after, a soft smile on her lips, and he lifts their hands to gently press his lips to the back of her hand.

Her eyes are hooded as they follow their hands to where he rests them on his chest before they snap back up to look into his. They turn toward each other in the same moment and Oliver wonders if Felicity can feel his pulse spike. He knows hers has when he rests his free hand on the side of her face and pulls her in.

He wakes up just before their lips meet.

Oliver sits up on his cot in the Verdant basement and breaths deep as he tries to reconcile his dream with his memories of what really happened on his first date with Felicity. The explosion, her blood, their talk in the hospital later, but most of all that kiss—the one he can still taste.

He shuts his eyes and puts his head in his hands, focusing on taking deep breaths until the memory of how it felt to have her for those few moments doesn't feel so suffocating. But when he opens his eyes again, he sees that damn fern sitting in the corner–flourishing despite how often he neglects to water it–and all he can think of is her.

With a frustrated sigh, he throws off the blankets and heads off to the training area. Maybe he won't dream about her if he's exhausted. It's worked before.


End file.
